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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142055">Barren</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyroluminescence/pseuds/Pyroluminescence'>Pyroluminescence</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Neon Genesis Evangelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Heavy Angst, Masturbation, Necrophilia, Other, Psychological Horror, Self-Harm, Vomiting, i forgot there was vomiting just gonna add that on there, i wrote this in 2013 oof, kinda forgot about it what with EVERYTHING THE FUCK ELSE going on here oof, this is NOT sexy AT ALL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:53:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyroluminescence/pseuds/Pyroluminescence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His head turns, glancing up at the source of the warm wetness stroking his hair. Unit-01's own fingers, streaked red, and suddenly he's not willing himself anymore because he's <i>accepting</i> and he cannot bring about what has already been brought onto him.</p>
<p>Kaworu's blood, warm like an embrace. Like love. </p>
<p>He closes his eyes and tastes.</p>
<p>(Or, to be less indicative: "that fucked up fic where Shinji fucks himself using Kaworu's blood as lube.")</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ikari Shinji/Nagisa Kaworu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Barren</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is no air in Shinji Ikari's lungs.</p>
<p>The weight in his chest brings him back to the entry plug, of the smell of blood, ammonia lingering in the back of his throat and tongue and it's all too heavy to breathe but <em> he does.  </em></p>
<p>Breath. Alive.</p>
<p>The taste of the weight still lingers, even minutes after leaving the Unit he'd used to murder Kaworu Nagisa. </p>
<p>His mind is grasping at the idea of the seventeenth Angel, just barely touching it even as Kaworu's blood is sticky between his gloved fingers. Breath is ragged in his own ears as he raises a shaking hand to his face, calling to himself to break the gap, to <em> merge, </em>to touch Adam and complete the forbidden union...!</p>
<p>
  <em> Drip. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Drip. </em>
</p>
<p>His head turns, glancing up at the source of the warm wetness stroking his hair. Unit-01's own fingers, streaked red, and suddenly he's not willing himself anymore because he's <em> accepting </em>and he cannot bring about what has already been brought onto him.</p>
<p>Kaworu's blood, warm like an embrace. Like love. </p>
<p>He closes his eyes and tastes.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There's a long sigh of relief that seems to come from the room around her as her eyes focus on the screen before her. </p>
<p>"MAGI system interface is operational. Presence of AT Fields has been eliminated. The pilot's safety has been confirmed. All vital signs read clear."</p>
<p>Beside her, the First Lieutenant pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before falling back in his chair, paying no mind to the accessory as it once again scales down his sweat-slicked skin. "I know I don't need to say I was worried there, but..."</p>
<p>"Save it. We're not finished here. Pilot communications are open! Shinji-kun! Shinji-kun, do you copy?"</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>Teeth clenching, she stares hard at the screen before her, boring into it all of the frustration inside of her as though Shinji were able to just <em> sense </em> how desperately she needs him to know that <em> now was not the fucking time..... </em></p>
<p>She curses, letting out a harsh breath. "I don't think there's anything we can do."</p>
<p>Hyuga stares wordlessly back at the unchanging screen, trying and failing to look deep in focus.</p>
<p>With a final, harsh sigh, the tension leaves Misato's body, and with it she feels as though lost the ability to hold her feet to the ground. Her body is scarcely her own - almost as though she, herself, is merely a catalyst, a soul for a vessel....</p>
<p>"Ikari-kun, return to dock with Unit-01. You can report later. I'll send backup to assist in the retrieval of Unit-02."</p>
<p>She's only just finished her breath when a sharp gasp comes from beside her. "Major! Unit-01's sync rates are dropping at a critical level! At this rate, Shinji won't be able to pilot Unit-01 even that far!"</p>
<p>"Hm." The flashing of numbers are the same series of lights and patterns she's seen nearly every day, blurring together into colors and sounds. "All right. Deploy units to retrieve Unit-01 and the pilot." </p>
<p>
  <em> Shinji.... </em>
</p>
<p>"The pilot is exiting the entry plug! Unit-01 deactivating!"</p>
<p>She grits her teeth. Images of Asuka, wrists slit, lips cracked, glassy-eyed and skin taut against ribs... "Turn camera surveillance on. We've already got one pilot incapacitated. Knowing Shinji, we can't be too careful."</p>
<p>"Roger."</p>
<p>Even behind the screen, the tiny blue-and-white image of Shinji is almost otherworldly, as though she's watching the images from underwater. </p>
<p>"Pilot's heart rate indicates a state of panic. In his state, there's no telling what he'll do. Should we continue to monitor vital signs?"</p>
<p>She curses again. "Do what you need to. With Unit-01 activated and backup to Terminal Dogma, I doubt Shinji will be able to do anything."</p>
<p>Hyuga's silence is eerie in the busy room, and she wonders if he'll speak again just before he murmurs in a whisper just barely audible over the machinery. "She's only letting us control her, isn't she? If she wanted, Shinji wouldn't even need to..."</p>
<p>He trails off, no longer vocalizing what Misato had only dared to think to herself. Taking a deep breath, she turns to the MAGI screen, forcing herself to focus. Another alert draws her attention, her head snapping in the direction of the surveillance screen.</p>
<p>"Pilot is removing his plugsuit. Major! It appears Shinji is intentionally cutting off contact from us!"</p>
<p>Staring hard at the beige outline of the now-naked pilot she's been entrusted guardianship of, it's all she can do to assure herself. </p>
<p>And then, suddenly, realization.</p>
<p>Hyuga almost hits the floor when she shoves him aside, Ibuki nearly screaming at the sudden movement. She pushes him from the camera surveillance screen, stopping just short of covering his eyes, fingers typing frantically into the interface. Her hands shake and she fights the urge to clench them, to drive her fist through the image on screen. "Cutting off camera surveillance to Terminal Dogma. Cease communications with the pilot and MAGI systems at once."</p>
<p>Ibuki <em> squeaks. </em>"Captain, what-"</p>
<p>She snaps, lip curling, nearly <em> spitting </em>in the direction of the First Lieutenant and making Hyuga scramble backwards. "The little shit can die if he wants to! With Unit-01 there, there's no need for further surveillance."</p>
<p>She expects no answer and receives none. Ignoring the confusion and hurt in the gazes directed towards her, she swallows her breath and the disgust rising in her throat, wondering how, of all the things they'd done, <em> this </em>revolts her so much. </p>
<p>
  <em> I have no right to call myself Shinji's guardian. I've already failed. But, at the very least, I can spare what little innocence they have left. </em>
</p>
<p>As the expressions of the team around her soften, she wonders if she's already failed them in that, too.</p>
<p>
  <em> Shinji, you disgusting little shit. I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry. </em>
</p>
<p>If she doesn't think about what that would make <em> her</em>, shame already bleeding out from the impact of her reckless conduct, then clenching her fists is enough to keep her hands from shaking. </p>
<p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p>
<p>The sharp gasp of air that comes with the release of his plugsuit echos in such a way that brought to mind how foreign it sounded - how out of place Shinji himself is, transgressing into a realm beyond what was intended for him. </p>
<p>He feels so small. </p>
<p>The material is nothing in his hands, sliding over his body, pooling on the ground beside him. Nothing he touches is real; his body is not his own. He can hardly steer himself, lapsing back into a place where his body is taken care of, where he is merely part of another, where he needn't exist of his own will...</p>
<p>Kaworu's blood is warm, and that's what anchors Shinji Ikari to the moment and to the existence he so desperately wishes he could shed himself of. </p>
<p>Kaworu Nagisa, warm, soft, and dead, is what ultimately proves he's alive.</p>
<p>"Kaworu-kun..." </p>
<p>His hand reaches, softly stroking the bloodied skin of Kaworu's intact forearm, down to his hand and the spindly, relaxed fingers that had held his so gently. "Your other arm got all messed up... I'm sorry." </p>
<p>The scars Shinji had spotted the day before are hard beneath his fingertips, as though they're clenching and seizing the healthy skin around them. Slowly, gently, Shinji raises the weight of Kaworu's arm, fearful that the slighest tug will rip it to shreads. He ghosts the scars with his lips, stopping to kiss calloused palms, mind blearily grasping at the thought of just the kind of life the Angel had lived up until now...</p>
<p>His stomach turns in revulsion at the mutilation that ravages Kaworu's once beautiful form, blood soaking into and caking nearly all of his clothing, bones protruding, entrails curling around the curves and plains of what remains of Kaworu Nagisa. Shinji can barely recognize the bloody stump of a neck and wonders if Kaworu's head has been utterly pulverized, or if it's still intact, somewhere in this damned chamber.</p>
<p>He'd deserved so much better than this.</p>
<p>He runs his tongue over bloodstained fingers, not sure, even to himself, if it's the taste of Kaworu's blood he craves or if it's just to see his skin clean again. He doesn't finish the thought before the arm is laying back at the corpse's side and Shinji crawls closer, bare knees resting in his blood, leaning in closer to kiss the gore-specked ground where Kaworu Nagisa's head should lay.</p>
<p>"Hah... Why am I doing this, Kaworu-kun? Why...?"</p>
<p>His breath hitches and he hangs his head, desperately trying to fill his aching lungs with the scent of Kaworu, but the air doesn't come. His next breaths escape as raw, gasping sobs, and he collapses, naked body flush with Kaworu's gruesome form, allowing the sobs to wrack his body. </p>
<p>All he wants, all he can taste and see and feel is to bleed himself into Kaworu, to take his form, to bring himself so close that Kaworu is real. He's hardly able to sit himself up, hardly able to straddle Kaworu's bony hips underneath shaking legs. Even his own skin, eggshell brown next to Kaworu's porcelain, reminds him of just how far he is from the boy too good to be real.</p>
<p>The blood of Kaworu's human body is more slippery than he'd thought, though it thickens and congeals quickly under his fingers. Breathlessly, Shinji slips them into his mouth, unable to breathe for the moments he's sucking them clean, washing himself inside and out with the vital essence of the seventeenth angel. </p>
<p>He lets his hands roam his body, painting himself red, matting it into his hair and smearing it into his skin. He tastes it in the salty mess of snot and tears that cascade to his lips and tongue and feels it in the pit of heat pooling at his groin and sending shocks of warmth through his abdomen. </p>
<p>He gasps, closing his eyes before letting his hand smear trails of blood down his stomach, over his thigh and ghosting over the tip of his growing erection. </p>
<p>"Ah, Kaworu-kun... I'm scum, aren't I?"</p>
<p>He's stroking himself inattentively and without intent. He's crying too hard, but he doesn't want to be and if he could just <em> grasp </em>Kaworu and complete himself to the boy who has always been so untouchable...!</p>
<p>His other hand withdraws from his mouth clean but slicked with saliva, and he barely registers this before it's diving back to Kaworu, <em> into </em> him, coated until it's <em> dripping </em>just as Unit-01's hand minutes before. </p>
<p>"I'm scum.... I'm scum. I'm <em> scum I'm scum I'mscumI'mscum </em> <b> <em>I'mscum.</em> </b>"</p>
<p>He hiccups, doubling over and catching himself, swallowing hard to keep from vomiting. Righting himself, he trails sodden figures down his back, reaching, and with a sharp movement they're buried inside him, Kaworu's blood slicking them down. One, then two. He groans, back arching against the sharp, burning flare of sensation. It <em> stings </em> and he can feel his muscles clenching around the buried digits so he takes a shaky breath, too tense to force a third. </p>
<p>
  <em> I should be hurting... I deserve to hurt! I killed Kaworu! This is what I wanted, right? This is how a faggot like me would do it...! This is what I wanted with Kaworu, isn't it?  </em>
</p>
<p>Gasping, he pumps his fingers, fucking himself in rhythm to his halfhearted masturbation. He's going too fast and it <em> stings </em> but it makes his back arch and he's spreading his legs into it, burying his face into his shoulder and trying to remember how to breathe amidst his shame.</p>
<p>He feels full, Kaworu's blood inside him with his fingers, kept warm by his body. In that moment, he knows he's loving this - the feeling of being fucked, Kaworu's body, the blood of his former friend connecting them once again and he wants to <em> scream </em>. </p>
<p>"Kaworu-kun, I'm sorry...! I'm the lowest..."</p>
<p>
  <em> This isn't the union you wanted. </em>
</p>
<p>Blood isn't the best lubricant, he finds, but he's satisfied with having a reason to reapply it, painting his insides and penetrating himself with Kaworu over and over again. Absentmindedly he grinds into warm, wet clothing and skin, gritting his teeth at the sting of sensation against his sensitive member. </p>
<p>It's no use, he realizes. As much as he's sickeningly, revoltingly enjoying this, his body has made the decision for him. He can't even come. He's too <em> pathetic </em>to even bring himself to orgasm. </p>
<p>Finally, he collapses, fingers still buried inside himself, face flush with Kaworu's bloodied chest, and he heaves painful, dry sobs until he thinks he can't possibly cry anymore. </p>
<p>This room is no place to put his mind to rest - as if he even <em> wants </em>to. There's no point, not even if Unit-01 and the malformed, crucified Angel could disappear. He simply sits, rocking himself in erratic rhythms to his own sobbing. </p>
<p>For all Shinji Ikari knew of grief, for how much he'd thought he'd known of the bounds of human suffering: He'd been wrong. Long after his throat burns raw from screaming, vomit laced with red-brown blood drying on his chin, he's still bawling, releasing terrible, rasping sounds in a voice that can no longer carry screams. </p>
<p>Several times, he can barely breathe, heart beating so fiercely that, for certain, he's having some sort of heart attack. He embraces the thought, almost unable to supply his lungs, because he's just deprived enough not to feel himself ache and burn for air, breathing so shallow that he can find comfort in pretending he's died. </p>
<p>Even those small comforts are useless; they, like Nagisa himself, come up only to soften him for the next blow. Didn't pain never hurt when it was all he'd felt? Trying to attain happiness only makes matters worse when those small assurances crumble under grief. He's better off hurting forever, so he never knows how badly he hurts. </p>
<p>He thinks its over, only for the cycle to begin anew, body pushing itself into sobbing fit after fit. At some point, his face is smeared into ground rather than bloodied clothing, and it's all he can do to lay in this puddle of his own snot and wish he could die. </p>
<p>Most perverse of all, he imagines, moreso even than Kaworu's blood still wet inside him, is how much he clings to this anguish, because it remains ultimate proof that Kaworu Nagisa has existed. With him, existed the unconditional compassion that staved the effects of even a lifetime spent alone.</p>
<p>The world around him is cold, and he's scarcely aware of the world around him, of blurring noise and color and the seven-eyed stare of the dormant Adam.... Lilith? The cold is a weight, an emptiness that <em> fills </em>him, and he grasps it because it was the only thing left to fill him. </p>
<p>He's dimly aware of movement, of familiar voices and the spray of water and linens but mostly the scent of blood. </p>
<p>What is left of him, but a vessel? Like the EVA, as Kaworu Nagisa to Adam, as humanity to God, so is Shinji Ikari just a vessel. He gives in, wanting nothing more than to simply blur into eternity, existence fading behind him. Because he can't, he simply exists as a vessel for a soul, no different from the servants of man he'd been so erroneously tasked with piloting. </p>
<p>Even if it's a soul as pathetic, abominable, and abhorrent as Shinji Ikari's. </p>
<p>He's so alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I first wrote this for a friend on Tumblr back in 2013, and little has changed since my original post. While I hope it's obvious, my intention was to communicate the horror of what Shinji is doing, and what he's been through to push him this far. It's not intended to be erotic - it's not even really intended to be Kawoshin, as much as it's demonstrative of the possibilities taken from them, their powerlessness, and Shinji's raw pain and grief. I can't say whether or not I did that justice, but, regardless, I hope this old fic means something to someone out there. </p>
<p>Thank you for reading this. It means a lot to me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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